


Little Red Cap and Granny Holmes

by Anonymous



Series: Holmes Brothers Grimm [2]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Granny Holmes, Little Red Riding Culverton Smith, Poisoning, Potatoes, The Adventure of the Dying Detective, Woodsman John, fairytale adaptation, folk traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 13:32:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12772101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: This is a fusion of Little Red Cap (Little Red Riding Hood) and The Adventure of the Dying Detective, in which Granny Holmes (a wise woman of the forest) meets Little Red Cap, a somewhat familiar poisoner. There is also a companion piece which follows the Red Cap story more closely, whereas this follows Dying Detective.ONCE upon a time there was a dreadful little girl who was hated by everyone who looked upon her, save for her grandmother, who would have given anything for the horrible child. She had even made her a little cap of blood-red velvet, which suited the girl so well that she would never wear anything else--  and so she was called ‘Little Red Cap.’Though it was without doubt due to the cap and cloak her grandmother had made for her, Little Red Cap preferred to think the appellation arose from her great love of hazardous plants-- particularly of the mushroom which bore that very name. Little Red Cap loved the darkness of the forest, wherein all manner of poisons could be found with just a scratch beneath the waxy surface of a leaf, buried amongst roots, or hidden deep within the cheerfully-coloured flowers. She studied them without mercy till they yielded their secrets.





	Little Red Cap and Granny Holmes

ONCE upon a time there was a dreadful little girl who was hated by everyone who looked upon her, save for her grandmother, who would have given anything for the horrible child. She had even made her a little cap of blood-red velvet, which suited the girl so well that she would never wear anything else-- and so she was called ‘Little Red Cap.’ 

Though it was without doubt due to the cap and cloak her grandmother had made for her, Little Red Cap preferred to think the appellation arose from her great love of hazardous plants-- particularly of the mushroom which bore that very name. Little Red Cap loved the darkness of the forest, wherein all manner of poisons could be found with just a scratch beneath the waxy surface of a leaf, buried amongst roots, or hidden deep within the cheerfully-coloured flowers. She studied them without mercy till they yielded their secrets. 

Her grandmother had encouraged her in her studies, but recently she had cautioned Little Red Cap on her growing recklessness. The old woman feared that her granddaughter would be lured into dark magic, from which there would be no turning back. When she discovered Little Red Cap had poisoned her songbird, Grandmother refused to provide the girl with the equipment needed to further her studies-- unless it was under the tutelage of a Wise Woman. Grandmother thought them a strange lot-- solitary heathens with bohemian ways scattered throughout the land, so very different from village folk-- but they knew light as well as darkness and could always be trusted to guide someone safely through the journey. 

But Little Red Cap had refused to so much as glance at Granny Holmes. The odd woman in the secluded hut did not frighten her, as she had done to so many others (though they still found courage enough to come to her for aid). Little Red Cap simply preferred to study on her own, without restrictions. Especially from other horrid old women.

One day her mother said to her, "Come, Little Red Cap, here is a piece of cake and a bottle of wine; take them to your grandmother, she is ill and weak, and they will do her good. Set out before it gets hot, and when you are going, walk nicely and quietly and do not run off the path, or you may fall and break the bottle, and then your grandmother will get nothing; and when you go into her room, don’t forget to say, 'Good morning', and don’t peep into every corner before you do it."

Little Red Cap rolled her eyes, but turned to face her mother and smiled politely as she spoke. "I will take great care," said Little Red Cap. Alas, the woman did not know what a wicked creature her daughter was, for this was the opportunity she had been longing for. The old woman was a hinderance. There were sacrifices to be made in the pursuit of knowledge.

_I must act craftily_ she thought, and walked off the path and looked round the sunlit forest in search of the right flowers for a deadly effect. She saw a shadowy figure walking along the road, carrying a small pouch much like her own.

"Good day, Little Red Cap," said Granny Holmes.

"Thank you kindly, Granny," she replied demurely.

"Whither away so early, Little Red Cap?"

"To my grandmother’s."

"What have you got in your apron?" 

The questions were becoming a nuisance, but the doddering old woman was harmless. And it would help for someone else to bear witness to the fact that her grandmother had already been quite ill. "Cake and wine; yesterday was baking-day, so poor sick grandmother is to have something good, to make her stronger."

"Where does your grandmother live, Little Red Cap?"

"A good quarter of a league farther on in the wood; her house stands under the three large oak-trees, the nut-trees are just below; you surely must know it," replied Little Red Cap impatiently, as she continued to refuse to look her in the eye, scanning the woods instead for the right toxins to harvest.

Granny walked for a short time near to Little Red Cap, and then smiled warmly and said, "See, Little Red Cap, how pretty the flowers are about here—why do you not look round? I believe, too, that you do not hear how sweetly the little birds are singing; you walk gravely along as if you were going to school."

This must be the most anyone had ever heard the old woman talk. Perhaps her grandmother had already told her of Red's interest in the forest's riches and Old Lady Holmes was evaluating her as a potential pupil. Little Red Cap raised her eyes, and saw the sunbeams dancing here and there through the trees, and pretty flowers growing everywhere, but it brought her no joy. She was not finding the mushrooms she sought, growing in ragged clumps on the leeward side of the trees. 

"Their smell and color are an embellishment of life. We have much to hope from the flowers," said the old woman, who grinned broadly as she turned from the path, moving deeper and deeper into the wood. Little Red Cap smirked. _Yes. The flowers are quite useful indeed._

She had found that which she had sought. Her grandmother had eaten of the poisoned food and drunk of the poisoned wine and no one had been the wiser. Nor would any notice the disappearance of the modest savings of a dead woman. 

When Little Red Cap set out to purchase a brand new microscope from the crippled old peddler who somehow made his way in from Tottenham each week, she noticed that that old Holmes Woman was there yet again, with the unblinking eyes of a vulture, watching her carry it home. That wouldn't do. Addled or no, the old witch knew far too much. Certainly no one would make a social call, and aside from the brave souls seeking assistance none would visit her... save for another old woman who came delivering food, and a middle-aged woodsman who brought firewood, supplies from the city, and other items from local shops as needed. Rarely, a very large, nearly ancient man could be seen hobbling down the path like an elephant in heeled boots. That was the extent of Granny Holmes's regular visitors. The witch would not be missed.

Each time the peddler came to town, she raided his wares looking for something unique and intriguing, and upon the third visit she had found what she had been searching for. A neat little thing it was, too-- a small, black and white ivory box with a sliding lid. She set to work on creating a poisoned trap.

Her grandmother's money did not go as far as she had hoped, but it had been enough for the microscope and some of the rarer herbs: Tapanuli, Black Formosa, Devil's Foot Root...all from far away places like Sumatra or Khartoum which she was certain she'd visit soon. All with deadly potential. But she was sentimental at heart, and prepared a draught from the same species of mushroom which she had used to rid herself of her grandmother. 

She prepared the potion carefully, immersed the tip of sharp, metal spring in the solution, and concealed it within the box. When the lid was pushed open, the point would dart out and puncture the finger of whomever would disturb it, like a fanged serpent, and deliver the poison deep within where it would freeze the victim's very heart. She wrapped it tightly in shiny golden paper, and when the courier came by on his rounds she sent it off with him, and waited.

Three days later there came a knock upon the door of her mother's house. The courier wished to speak with Little Red Cap urgently.

"I am sorry sir, but it is not proper for my daughter to meet with a gentleman whom--"

"The apology is mine to make, madam. I am sorry, but the matter cannot be delayed. Granny Holmes—”

"It's all right, mother, I am sure the courier means not to proposition me, he only brings word of my future tutor, though why I cannot be certain. Have you come from Granny Holmes, sir?" she asked sweetly.

“I have just left her.”

“What of her, then? How is she?”

“She is desperately ill. That is why I have come.”

Little Red Cap motioned him to sit, and in doing so, caught a glimpse of her own face in the mirror over the mantelpiece. She tried her best to school her features into genuine concern.

“I am sorry to hear this,” said she. “I scarcely know Granny Holmes as of yet, but was considering studying with her next spring. I have much respect for her talents, though I believe we have differing approaches. I am far more interested in botany than...I suppose it would be alchemy, her specialty?"

“It was on account of your special knowledge that Granny Holmes desired to see you. She has a high opinion of you and thinks you the only one who could help her.”

Little Red Cap took a quick breath. “Why?” she asked. “Why should Granny Holmes think that I could help her with her illness?”

“Because of your knowledge of plant-borne disease.”

“But why should she think that this disease which she has contracted is related to botany?”

“Because she has been working with Mariner's Landing seaweed. She fears she must not have taken adequate precautions.”

Red Cap smiled pleasantly and picked up a small, leather pouch. “Oh, that's it—is it? I trust the matter is not so grave as you suppose. How long has she been ill?”

“About three days.”

"It might resolve on its own if--"

"You must come!" he pleaded, "For she is near death and says she wishes to consult with you and you alone." He rose from his chair and paced the room. "When I came by as usual to deliver the firewood, she was unable to open the door. She asked who was there in the weakest of voices and when I said it was John, here with more wood, she said I should just raise the latch. That she was too weak to get out of bed." 

He looked pleadingly at Red Cap. "Then she stared at me with terribly sunken eyes and asked me how many coins I had within my purse and of what denomination. I hoped beyond hope she meant to see if had sufficient funds to fetch a doctor for her, but she only bade me rearrange them-- some in one pocket, some in the other. I was better balanced this way, said she. Some talk followed of random things. Of the increasing number of oysters--"

“So she is delirious!"

"Yes."

"Other symptoms?"

John looked down as he spoke. "Now, not many know of this, but... I am a Root Doctor myself. I have spoken at length with Granny Holmes, often, about tinctures and such. So I know she was certainly far from herself. When I pressed her for information with which to attempt my own diagnosis she said she felt as if she was a tiny, flickering candle, still trying in vain to light an entire room. I tried to... to get closer. To see if she was as feverish as she looked to be with her flushed cheeks. She bade me move back. Then..." Red Cap could see this pained the man to explain. "Then she said my worth was not as a healer, but rather lay in my ability to fetch things. And I should go fetch someone in whom she had confidence." He swallowed. "She said you have the finest tools and the keenest mind with which to utilize them. Please. Please go to her."

"It would be inhumane not to. I will see her."

"I must leave. I am too long from my errands. You will see her today?"

"You have my word.”

When Red Cap arrived at the tiny hut she was surprised to find the door standing open. The room was dim in the fading sunlight, but one could still make out the gaunt, wasted face wracked with fever, dark crusts clinging to her lips, as she gazed out from the partially-drawn bed curtains. The thin hand that attempted to gesture Red Cap toward a chair beside the bed twitched incessantly. Her eyes closed as if drifting off. Red Cap needed her awake a moment or two longer, and shook her by the shoulder.

“Is that you, Little Red Cap?” Granny whispered. “I hardly dared hope that you would come. It is very good of you—very noble of you to show charity to one such as I. I appreciate your special knowledge.”

Little Red Cap gave no response and moved closer to her bedside.

"Oh! Granny Holmes," she said, "What a hollowed face you have! What flushed cheeks! What sunken eyes and trembling hands! Do you know what ails you?”

“"Better for you to tell me. I am quite certain you know what this is." Granny Holmes's voice nearly gave out entirely as she finished, "For I believe it to be the same."

“Ah! You recognize the symptoms?”

She struggled to gain the breath with which to speak. “Only too well. I knew. That you did it. Then.”

“Oh, you did, did you? Watching my every move. And now, crawling to me for help?”

“Water!” she gasped.

“You're precious near your end, but I don't want you to go till I have had a word with you, so I'll give you water. There...neatly, now! That's right. Can you understand what I say?”

She groaned. “I never said a word. Even though I was certain. You were... looking for... poison. Not flowers. By the trees. Do what you can…for me. Let bygones be bygones,” she whispered. “Only cure me, and I'll forget it.”

“Forget what?”

"You as good as admit you killed your grandmother." The old woman's desperate words gushed out like a stream tumbling over jagged rocks. "I'll put the words out of my head— I swear it. I'll erase it all. I'll forget it."

“You can forget it or remember it, just as you like. I don't see you in the witness box. You are destined for quite another type of box." Little Red Cap smiled. "It matters little if you know all about my grandmother's death; it is not hers we are here to discuss, but yours.”

“Yes.”

“The fellow who came for me—the delivery man—said that you contracted it from mishandling extracts."

“I could only account for it so."

“And yet you call yourself Wise? Well we know the limits of your wisdom. Think back, witch. Can you think of no other way you could have contracted this?”

“I can't think. My mind is gone. For heaven's sake help me!”

“Yes, I will help you. I'll help you to understand just where you are and how you got there. I'd like you to know before you die.”

“Give me something to ease my pain.”

“Well, you can hear what I say, anyhow. Listen now! Can you remember anything unusual around the time your symptoms began?”

“Nothing.”

“Think again.”

“I'm too ill to think.”

"Listen! You _shall_ hear me, witch! Do you remember a box—an ivory box? It came by post. You opened it—do you remember?”

“Yes, yes, I opened it. There was a sharp piece of metal inside it. Some prankster—”

“It was no merry prank. Who asked you to keep watch on me? If you had only left me alone, I would not have had to hurt you.”

“I remember,” she gasped. “The spring! It drew blood. The box-- on the table.”

“The very one-- which just so happens to fit perfectly within my pocket. You value knowledge. Know that I killed you. You knew too much of Grandmother's fate, so I have sent you to share it. As for me...I will sit here, and I will watch you die.”

Granny's voice had sunken to an almost inaudible whisper.

“What is that? Light the candle? Shadows begin to fall. Yes, I will. The better to see you, dear Granny Holmes.” She lit the candle on the nightstand. "Is there any other little service that I can do for you, _Magistra_?"

Granny’s voice was suddenly both as clear and as quick as a mountain spring. “Yes, you can toss some more of John's firewood into the stove, and then put the kettle on. I need a good rolling boil to cook the potatoes. I'll have to get the butter and salt later; first things first."

"What?"

“Yes, I'm very hungry, and I think I would rather like mashed potatoes. The best way to pretend to be ill is...to be ill, you see. I give you my word-- for three days I have tasted neither food nor drink until you were good enough to pour me out that glass of water. Well, I say good, though you had other motives which had scarce little to do with goodness. And the same can be said of your lighting the candle. That was a signal, by the way. Might have been cumbersome for me to do so myself, as I was rather preoccupied with feigning my death, so thank you for that. Harken! I hear the step of a friend!" 

Granny Holmes beamed as two men entered the room. "Dearest Friend John, I thank you, for doing all I asked of you without explanation. And thank you as well, Constable Morton. I hope you have heard all that was necessary?"

“For the murder of Victoria Smith,” Morton stated, advancing on Red.

“And you might add my attempted murder as well. Your prisoner has a small box within the pocket-lining of her cape which I would handle very gingerly if I were you.” She turned to the courier and her smile faded. "John, I owe you a thousand apologies. And my eternal thanks for convincing her to come."

John's face was as stone. "You must have known she would."

"Knowing her vindictive nature, it was likely she would wish to look upon her handiwork."

John moved closer, hesitantly, and peered at her face.

"Vaseline upon one's forehead."

"The better to replicate the ravages of fever."

"Your eyes, Granny...?"

"Belladonna. It is quite difficult to see you, in fact."

"And then the rouge and wax..."

"Nothing to this disease which a sponge would not cure. And so now you see why I had to use every means at my disposal for you to keep your distance. I could not have my secrets revealed. You are far too perceptive to be deceived; it was my only hope against discovery."

"You think I am perceptive and call me your dearest friend, and yet you think me incapable of keeping your secrets."

"For you to be deceived is difficult; for you to deceive, impossible. It is not in your nature, John. Be glad on this. You are a good man, a protector, a healer."

"I am a deliverer of parcels," he spat out.

She closed her eyes, let out a huff of breath, then quietly said, "John," upon reopening them, her head tilted down in supplication.

"No, it's fine. My days of secrets and adventure and intrigue are all well in my past, and--"

"I had you send my message to a murderer," Granny Holmes smiled. "Or had you forgotten that small detail? That is a rather dangerous task, for even the best and bravest of messengers."

"I had no knowledge of that fact with which to lay claim to bravery."

"And I... needed to feel I could fool you to ensure myself that I could fool her. Long enough till your return with the constable, at least."

"You had doubts?"

She looked at John and cleared her throat before speaking. "Yes. And if I could fool you, I could fool anyone, for no one knows me but half as well."

There was a moment of silence before John spoke. "I know you must be hungry. You often are after solving any puzzle, let alone one requiring a three day fast."

Granny Holmes smiled. "I tried to get her to put a kettle on." 

"Did you?"

"Yes. She was not as accommodating as she was about the lighting of the candle."

"Then let's see to that first, shall we? Is there anything in particular I can prepare for you? Nothing too complicated. I may be a good man and a protector and a healer and a brave courier, but I am no cook."

"Could you, by chance, find it within your purview to boil some potatoes?"

 

THE END


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